Deception
by redseeker
Summary: Prowl, an ambitious young Decepticon, finds himself relegated to recon duty with a deadbeat Autobot repair crew. Nevertheless, he is determined to make his mission a success. Eventual Prowl x Bumblebee, among others.
1. Chapter 1

The little rock Prowl had been sent to was little more than an asteroid, really – drifting slowly through a large belt of smaller ones, nothing else of note anywhere in the sector. The space bridge wasn't even functional, it was so clogged up with rubble. He'd had to hitch-hike just to get there – taking one of the shuttles would obviously have been impossible, since a Decepticon ship, no matter how small, would have aroused suspicion right from the get-go.

He'd wandered around a little when he first arrived. The mech who'd dropped him there had been an interstellar freight pilot, and even he had expressed his scepticism about leaving him there. It had actually been rather amusing – the poor bot thought he was abandoning a sweet young Autobot to the ravages of space – but that didn't stop Prowl from sharing his pilot's doubts about this Allspark-forsaken place.

Presumably he'd been given this joke of an assignment because he'd accepted outside help on the protoform mission. It didn't matter that the mission had gone successfully – Megatron clearly didn't think he was capable of carrying out valuable projects by himself.

Sighing, he picked a spot that was reasonably sheltered, and not too close to the gate itself, and sat down to wait until something happened. Of course, there was no guarantee that anything _would_ happen – his mission was to intercept a team of Autobots led by one Optimus Prime, infiltrate the group, and relay information back to Megatron for an indeterminate length of time. Apparently this Prime had been in line to become the next Magnus, so Megatron still felt he was worth keeping an optic on, but Prowl knew that his mission would probably involve nothing more than menial repair work and spying on a deadbeat Academy drop-out who might once have amounted to something but who blew his chance.

After several kliks in which nothing happened at all – no sound, no sign of movement, not another life form in sensor range – he opened up a comm. channel to the Decepticon flagship. "Prowl to Megatron."

His leader didn't reply straight away, and Prowl waited through several nanokliks of static before Megatron's rich voice filled his internal audios. "Are you in position?"

"I am, sir. There's no sign of the Autobot team, though."

"Have patience. Shockwave's intel shows their team's course passes through that sector – remain close to the gate."

"Yes sir..."

"There is one thing I neglected to tell you before dispatching you on this mission," Megatron said, and Prowl's visor widened a little bit.

"Sir?"

"There is a chance the Autobot ship is a valuable weapon. Whatever happens, stay with this group."

"Yes sir... Understood, sir." Prowl took a moment to process this information. If his leader's intel was correct, then Prowl knew exactly what weapon he was talking about. The mission took on a new weight with this knowledge. "I will determine whether their ship is this weapon, and any developments I will report directly to you, my lord."

"Very good." Megatron paused, then went on, "You're a young bot, but you have potential."

Prowl was taken aback. "Thank you sir..."

"Do well on this mission and I may consider your promotion to a more challenging position. Now cut transmission and get to work."

"Yes sir. Prowl out."

After closing the channel the little asteroid seemed even more eerily silent than it had before. Prowl sighed. He didn't have a problem with solitude, but he was impatient to get the mission proper underway. Perhaps his leader had more faith in him than he had thought, and he desperately wanted to prove him right.

After a couple of cycles he let himself slip into a meditative state, a kind of modified stasis. In this state he could go for very long periods without requiring refuelling.

He waited. And he waited.

It wasn't until approximately one million stellar cycles later that anything happened to disturb his silent, solitary existence.

He was roused out of his meditation by the crash of a wrecking ball breaking through the rock wall behind him. Realising that his wait was probably – finally – over, he didn't move, but returned to a fully alert state, all sensors online. There were two mechs behind him, and they seemed to be conversing about what to do about his presence. Now was make or break time. He'd better get into character.


	2. Chapter 2

Prowl was surprised at how quickly the group seemed to accept him. He'd hammed it up a little bit, playing the part of disillusioned societal outcast, a role that clearly struck a chord with this bunch of rejects, particularly their leader, the so-called Prime. To them he was a drifter, a rebel who'd lost his cause, and was searching for a new one. A loner damaged by a painful past – which, presumably, they thought they might be able to cure by welcoming him into their bosoms.

He was careful not to let them be too successful in this, however. The persona of quiet loner was well suited to his natural demeanour, and required minimal acting. Also, it discouraged too many prying questions.

The first few orbital cycles passed largely without incident. Prowl familiarised himself with the team – the leader, the Prime he'd been sent to keep an optic on, seemed every byte the typical Academy drone, so well indoctrinated with Autobot propaganda that he seemed to take every opportunity to spout some drivel about the great Autobot machine. He spent his spare time studying the Great War, as told on the ship's history tapes from the Autobot point of view. Prowl did well to contain his disgust, not only at the blatant bias of these tapes and of his "leader's" devotion to them, but also at the fact that his superior was a mech young enough to not even remember the war first-hand. Ratchet, the medic and the most senior member of the group, we was mostly indifferent to. He seemed a competent medic, but gruff and, often, rude. Prowl found him more tolerable than the others simply because his manner lacked the generally Autobot traits of nauseating pleasantness. Bulkhead was little more than an annoyance – Prowl had always disliked large, crude moulds who relied on brute strength rather than cunning or technique. As for the ship itself, he had had a brief look around – all the time he'd been able to sneak away from his new "comrades" – and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Further scans were required, he decided.

That only left the smallest, youngest member of their team. Bumblebee, a little speed model, barely sparked – a mere protoform, as far as Prowl was concerned. Agile and capable, to be sure, but Prowl found his arrogance and enthusiasm grating. He had been the first of these Autobots he'd interacted with, and for a while the little yellow mech had latched onto him as if he had found a new best friend. Prowl's coldness had quickly dissuaded Bumblebee from that idea.

It had started later on the same orbital cycle that he had been awoken. Prowl, still a little dazed from the extended stasis period, was still waiting for his systems to boot up to full functionality _and_ take on the instructions his new superiors were trying to impress on him at the same time. If he wanted to join the team, he was made to understand, he had to work.

They were outside the garish ship he would now have to call home. Their work was ostensibly repairing the space-bridge, but most of it seemed to involve breaking rocks and clearing rubble – archaic stockade occupations, if Prowl wasn't mistaken. He didn't voice this observation. Bumblebee sidled over to him, large blue optics wide with curiosity. Prowl realised that he was a novelty. These bots probably spent stellar cycles drifting through deep space with no company but each other, and as a new member of the group – as someone, something _different_ – Prowl was exciting as a brand new toy. He regarded Bee coolly.

"Hey... Prowl, wasn't it?" the little mech said. The interest in his optics was painfully obvious.

"That is correct," Prowl said. Fortunately his designation was neutral – and common – enough for him not to have needed to adopt a new one for this mission.

"So like... how did you wind up out here? My buddy and I thought you mighta been offline when we found you, you were so still!"

"...I was in a meditative state," Prowl answered carefully. "A kind of stasis."

"_Why_?"

"I had little else to do?"

"Dark and mysterious past, right?" Bumblebee said with a lopsided grin. "It's okay, you don't have to spill your circuits right away." Prowl realised that his silence actually _attracted_ this mech. Curious. The other bots called a break, and Bumblebee disappeared for a moment, only to reappear shortly after. "Hey," the yellow mech said, and Prowl noticed that this time he seemed nervous. "So... I asked Bulkhead, and he said okay. We're gonna break now... Do you... Do you wanna refuel with us?" He held up a couple of small pink energon cubes. His optics were all wide and pale again. It was almost endearing.

Prowl made a show of considering for a couple kliks, and then said, "No, thank you. I prefer to refuel alone."

The little bot's face fell, for just an astrosecond, before he covered it with an artfully careless smile. "Okay, that's cool," he said. "We'll be in the galley if you change your mind." Prowl watched the young mech dash away with a curious feeling in his processor – a feeling that, perhaps, gaining the Autobots' trust would be a lot easier than he'd planned.


End file.
